


Breathe

by evanelric



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of Violence, Anal Sex, Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Disabled Character, Hanzo's legs are totally prosthetics, Light Bondage, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Psychological Trauma, Safeword Use, Sibling Incest, Top Genji Shimada, Trust, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanelric/pseuds/evanelric
Summary: Now, Hanzo is perfectly at ease pulling himself around with his arms in front of Genji, even letting his brother unlatch his prosthetics and carry him around their quarters, and Genji spends more time out of his armor than in, showing Hanzo where he can peel back synthskin to play his fingers across electronic nerves and light Genji up in ways they couldn’t have dreamed of before. Even for all this, though, Hanzo would have been positive that Genji would never ask Hanzo to stop his breath again, up until the moment Genji did.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bonebo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/gifts).



> For Taa'ika, who had a bad day.

“Do you want this?” Hanzo lifts the water bottle toward his brother, watching for an indication either way. Genji’s pupils are nearly back to their normal size, unless one were to turn the lights any higher than the dim setting they're currently at. It will be some time yet before Genji has the capacity to form words, though. His lips part and he tilts his face slightly toward Hanzo instead, and he manages a few short drizzles of water poured carefully onto his tongue before he turns his head away again. Hanzo isn't pleased that Genji only managed so little, but nevertheless he presses a gentle kiss to his brother's forehead, sticky with drying sweat.

Hanzo ignores the feeling of lube running down his thighs, growing cold and increasingly uncomfortable the farther it runs, and instead undoes the leather cuffs around Genji's wrists. It’s a testament to the trust between them that he hadn’t merely snapped the restraints when he safeworded. That he hadn’t broken them _instead_ of safewording.

Once both wrists are free Genji tangles their fingers together and pulls Hanzo closer to lay with him, threading synthskin covered legs with flesh and tucking his face into the curve of Hanzo’s throat. His breathing at this point is almost normal, but with the way the air fans hot and humid over Hanzo’s collarbone and Genji clinging so tightly it would be hard to miss the way it still catches occasionally. Instead of calling attention to it, however, Hanzo just brings his hand up and cards his fingers through Genji’s hair, waiting for his brother to come all the way back from his sudden panic.

If Hanzo had let himself think about how his reconciliation with Genji would go before it happened, he would have assumed that the sex would be the easy part. They always seemed to know exactly how to push one another, where to touch and how, what to say and when, in order to bring about the most intense reactions in one another. Genji was constantly picking up new tricks from his various dalliances (a point of contention between them that didn’t even get settled with Hanzo’s blade all those years ago, but they both chose different ways to vent the frustration of keeping their relationship hidden, and neither had the patience to try to understand the other and mourn Sojiro at the same time).

Years later, though, it seems that listening to one another is the part they’ve both become adept at, and the physicality is slow to follow. Things one or the other (or both) of them preferred when they were younger do nothing for them now. Things neither of them had tried before are haltingly broached in private. Things Genji wasn’t _capable_ of before become possibilities. Things that neither of them want to remember, let alone mention to the other, become verboten. Given the state of things, Hanzo had assumed this fell under the lattermost category, so he was surprised when Genji hesitantly admitted that he hadn’t done it with anyone since he got his new body, partially because he wasn’t even sure it would work, but that he _did_ want to try it again.

The first time, when they were much younger, when things were still new and uncertain between them, had been as close to accidental as such a thing could possibly be, if cliché. Barehanded sparring reduced to grappling on the mats, Hanzo’s arm threading tight around Genji’s throat from behind, his other arm forcing Genji’s neck forward into the crook of Hanzo’s elbow. Genji’s hand flew up to Hanzo’s arm, not to escape, but for something to hold, as his hips jerked into thin air and he choked out a breathless “ _anija!”_

After that, it became a guaranteed way to blow Genji’s mind- press just so _,_ just enough, against his arteries while they fucked. Later, when things started falling apart and Hanzo felt like he was drowning, it was an easy way for him to get a little control back, for him to make Genji feel just as helpless as he did.

And, because they always know just how to touch, how to inspire the most extreme reactions, it wasn’t enough that Genji literally cut Hanzo’s legs out from under him, or that Hanzo sheared his brother nearly in two. In hindsight, slipping his hands around Genji’s throat and squeezing down- not _in_ , not like all the times before- may have been what stopped Genji from bleeding out before Overwatch could pick him up. It’s hard to have an increased pulse from adrenaline when you’re unconscious with a crushed trachea.

That was then, however, and this is now, when bygones are bygones, or as much as they can be. Not forgotten, but forgiven, the emotional wounds as healed as the physical ones, prosthetics standing in for organic parts when necessary, and an impartial monk, who never knew either Genji or Zenyatta except by reputation, to help them bridge the emotional divides.

Now, Hanzo is perfectly at ease pulling himself around with his arms in front of Genji, even letting his brother unlatch his prosthetics and carry him around their quarters, and Genji spends more time out of his armor than in, showing Hanzo where he can peel back synthskin to play his fingers across electronic nerves and light Genji up in ways they couldn’t have dreamed of before. Even for all this, though, Hanzo would have been positive that Genji would never ask Hanzo to stop his breath again, up until the moment Genji did.

They ease into it. The restraints were Genji’s idea, and something he wouldn’t budge on, not trusting himself with free range of motion in case anything happened. “Anything.” As if Hanzo didn’t know what that meant.

Hanzo held himself over Genji after latching the cuffs, kissing his brother long and indolent, nipping at the pliable material of his lower lip. Working his way down the seam between organic and synthskin, tongue darting out to flick across the divide, where electronic impressions of pressure, heat, and moisture suddenly translate to slick, wet, muscle. Bracing himself with one arm next to Genji’s ribs while his other hand slides back to open himself up, the room full of the sounds of both of them panting as Hanzo bites his lip and tosses his head back as he works another finger in.

They both sigh like they’ve come home when Hanzo sinks down on Genji’s cock, still painfully aware of how long they went without this and thought that was how it would always be. The way Hanzo shifts his hips is familiar by now as well; strong, confident rolls right out of the gate, no hesitance or need for adjustment once he decides to move, hands braced on Genji’s chest to make up for the leverage he can’t get with what’s left of his legs.

This, this is all familiar, muscle memory from now and a lifetime ago. When Genji’s hips start jerking up into Hanzo’s it’s less difficult than Hanzo thought it would be to slip his fingers around Genji’s throat. To find the spots on the sides where, just under the flesh, Genji’s blood pumps hot and fast and oxygen-rich up to his brain. To begin applying pressure to stem that tide.

And when Genji’s head tips back and he gasps out “ _Stormblade_ ” it doesn’t even take a conscious thought before Hanzo’s hand is withdrawn and he’s sliding himself up off Genji’s cock, settling beside his brother on the mattress while he waits for an indication that his touch is welcome. His hands clench into fists in the sheet as all his reservations come surging up again, as he waits for all the punishment he rationally knows he doesn’t deserve, and can’t help but fear anyway. He pushes it down, though, as he usually does. Offers Genji water. Undoes the cuffs. Allows himself to be pulled down, and holds his brother close.


End file.
